


Afraid

by AmberJeans



Series: Past The Present [3]
Category: Shadowrun: Hong Kong
Genre: Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Gen, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberJeans/pseuds/AmberJeans
Summary: Hours later, the black hand of fear gripped his body. Darkness roared around him, deafening and dumb. He felt himself being tossed and turned, not unlike when he was on his liferaft.Terrible nightmares. Unresolved issues. Forced bedrest. Just another night in the Shadows.
Relationships: Duncan Wu/Blink
Series: Past The Present [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1303652
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Notes at the end.

It was dark. Quiet. Blink sighed into the mattress he was sprawled on. The crew had come under heavy fire while leaving their last job; their van had needed to make a few unscheduled diversions, and stops, as they fought their way home. They’d all had to expend themselves, Blink especially, just to get out of there. And they were all sent to Ambrose’s afterwards. Their credsticks took a beating but it was better than the alternative. 

Blink had expended a lot of magic in his escape; by the time they’d gotten to safety, he was coughing up blood. It was nothing new to him, his magic often took quite a toll on him ever since his degradation as Lofwyr’s guinea pig, but Duncan hadn’t been so calm about it. At all. He’d told Blink -ordered him even- to stay in bed, and stayed at his side the entire time. It took several days of complaining, sweet talk and pleading to get him back on-task with the rest of the team. 

Duncan hadn’t wanted to leave his boyfriend alone, even for the milkrun they sorely needed to replenish their depleted nuyen; indeed, he didn’t leave until Blink had sworn on his life to remain in bed. And even then Duncan had to be physically pushed by his social adept sister out of the door. Blink had watched him leave with a wistful smile and turned on his back to face the ceiling.

Hours later, the black hand of fear gripped his body. Darkness roared around him, deafening and dumb. He felt himself being tossed and turned, not unlike when he was on his liferaft. There was no light and despite the howling he felt nothing. No wind, no rain, just a sickening feeling, equally familiar and foreign, trailed it’s icy fingers along his chest and clutched his heart.

The sea-wind howled accusatorially against his cabin window. How long had it been since he’d last sworn to end his fear, for good, like a hopeless addict? Days? Weeks? Minutes? Years? Buried under days of action, like burning lime-pits… but looking back, he could scarcely recall a time he hadn’t been afraid. 

A chuckle dark enough to find family in the shifting blackness rose from his mouth. The dreams held unfathomable terror; no words were shared between him and the inexplicable horrors that infested his mind whenever he closed his eyes to sleep. He’d heard about visitations from the others; nightly visits from loved ones, past and present, all familiar and there and talking with them, until the dreamers drowned in a wave of bloody regrets and endless teeth. 

He envied them; he envied the solidification of their suffering. The familiarity of their torment. The systemic descent into loss and madness, the visual actualisation of bitter regrets, and the words they got to share with illusions of their loved ones. He’d have killed to get even one of their visitations, even if only in a dream. 

His family was dead and gone; their untimely death a blip on the mucknet, in between gossip over who would show up to the latest Wyrm-Talk and whatever earthshattering event they’d be discussing that had nothing to do with his family. 

They loved him, as much and as hard as any family could ever love someone. Money had been tight but still they struggled. Still they fought. Each other, themselves, and the world. As family does. 

He’d been told more times than he cared to consider that his wasn’t an uncommon story in the shadows, far from it! It was all too common. But… that didn’t make it anything less; it was his loss. His pain. His suffering. And even if it was only a dream he’d have liked to see them. Just once.

What he got instead was unpronounceable suffering and nameless shrieks of terror. Alien tones and languages that he knew and saw but could not hear. Colors and images refused all attempts at understanding. Understanding and familiarity eluded him, lost to the winds. He knew he was suffering, how could he not? All of Hoei was suffering under whatever was happening to them. But whatever was happening to the people at least they had each other; images of friends and family to cling to, false comforts inside the nightmares. 

His cries of terror in the waking hours were all he had to attest to the fact that he was suffering too. Whatever he could recall about his dreams faded almost as soon as he woke up. There were nights when, screaming and crying he’d bolt out of the cot and desperately start to record his nightmares with a commlink or an old-fashioned notepad or something. But whenever it came time to write, whenever he called upon his memories or his magic they vanished. No bang, no fanfare, just… nothing. He actually felt guilty; living in a foreign land with no one to lean on that didn’t want something in return, the only thing he shared with every soul in Heoi just vanished. 

He had nothing to show for it. His sweat could have come from anything; he’d exercised with Duncan and Kris in the mornings and it got humid in the ship. After a hard run he sometimes got the shakes pretty bad; the tremors were even easier to explain away. 

But the tears; those he could not explain. To anyone. To himself. There was no reason with which to demonstrate his tears; no visible reason why he should be afraid. He had a home, a solid team, his boyfriend who could be the best guy in the world. He had nothing to show for his fears, no explanation for his tears. And that only served to make him more afraid. 

And thus the cycle went.

And the dreams… he had a sinking feeling deep in his soul; they knew this. They had to. 

Furiously Blink ransacked his mind for answers, for explanations, for something he could use. He’d shunned the spirits for so long; his magic was so tightly bound to the physical world. It made sense; it was solid. Present. There. The astral was… much more mercurial. Contradictory. Everything and nothing at the same time.

His life had gone to drek so hard and so fast and and so many times that, if he were to be completely honest, he was afraid of what his astral self would look like. What would they see? The tired student who struggled to work on a scholarship, the destitute layabout whose family had been taken from him? The hardened and weary runner who’d gotten in over his head? Lofwyr’s experiment and eventual plaything? 

What?

He knew that what he was doing wasn’t healthy; it wasn’t logical to avoid a part of himself just because it didn’t fit into his own limited world view. One that seemed to shrink the deeper into the Shadows he fell. What would he have if he’d gotten rid of that small illogical part of himself, that he’d fought to keep alive in a world that couldn’t care less.

His eyes started to water as he tossed in the bunk. He had nothing. He knew nothing. Would he complete the trifecta and become nothing?

He tossed the blanket over his body and turned in the bunk, wafting himself in Duncan’s irondized scent that lingered on the pillow he used. The tears flowed gently this time; the sea solidified beneath him. The hardness buoyed him against the waves and let him breath. 

What would Duncan say if he talked about his dreams? Would he have any answers? Blink doubted it. The man was still struggling with his own nightmares, and with more besides. In many ways Duncan was just as lost as Blink was; just as broken and desperate as he was. And yet…

A beam of light cracked through the dark firmament. Did he really have to have the answers? Was it truly okay if he couldn’t explain what was happening to him? Maybe he’d be willing to look with him? Together. With him.

The buoyed calcification crackled beneath him and the seas began to roar. Tremors started to rack his body. He pulled and the blanket and threw his head, trembling, into the pillow. Of course he could! Strongly as Duncan could judge, he would stand by him stronger still, no matter what. Even if he didn’t have the answer and couldn’t explain what was happening to him Blink was sure -confident, even- that Duncan would want to hear him out. Wouldn’t he?

The hatch opened and Blink turned. In walked two plus meters of easily irritated sunlight, brooding and tenacious and uncompromising and there. His back was to Blink and he was yelling out the hatch at Kris. Something about not having enough ammo and why didn’t she just get a gun like the rest of them and not just run into grenades and fireballs and whatever the hell else people liked to lob at them on runs. 

Blink smiled wide and then stopped. His hands were still wet from the tears, and his cheeks puffy. With a thought and a gesture he wiped it all away, his fears, tears and rawness too. He glanced at his reflection in the box he’d gotten for Duncan; it was like he’d never left. 

With a wide smile he jumped out of bed to his Duncan. To his life-raft in the unforgiving sea. He’d get Duncan to talk about his run and maybe, just maybe, he’d want to hear about his dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> This was... not easy to write. I'll admit I teared up a few times writing it.  
> Some backstory to wet your palates. Happy how it turned out, all things considered.


End file.
